Vanquishing Evil
by Chinesemoon
Summary: Raphael is badly injured from a fight. Amy nurses him back to health, but neither of them were prepared for the power the Soul Edge held over them. As evil penetrates their personalities, can they fight the trials of evil? And can they resist?


Vanquishing Evil

By Chinesemoon

Chapter: 1

She cast her brown eyes down onto the floor and stared at her shadow. It was slim and flat. She had no curves, no shape to her body whatsoever. Everyday when she woke up, she twisted her brilliant red hair into a braid and put on the same green dress and stockings – the ones _he_ bought her.

The wind blew across the windows and whistled. It had been over a month since Amy had seen Raphael. She never questioned his whereabouts, never asked when he would return, never hoped, never wished –

When he _did_ come home, he was badly cut and bruised. This started the vicious cycling of healing. Wet rags, bandages, washing his clothes, nursing him… staying up all night to see that he was all right. God, how he tossed in his sleep! He must have dreamt awful things. When he recovered, he came to her. He always stared at her in his intense way, examining her.

_Stilling eating? No one lurks nearby? Don't talk to strangers. I'll be back soon._

_God, can't you see I'm dying inside?_

Amy bit her lip softly. She closed her eyes, but she found no escape there. It was only him again, staring at her, tearing at her heart, reading her mind, reading her soul… if only he could see.

Downstairs, she could hear the door burst open. Amy's eyes flew open immediately, and she ran to her door. She carefully opened it slightly and looked into the hall. No one. Silence. She slipped into the hall quietly, her eyes always darting around her. She peered over the balcony.

Raphael's body lay lifeless on the tiles of the front entrance-way. She tried to suppress a gasp as she ran to him. Her feet pounded down the stairs, and she rushed to his side.

"Raphael!" Amy cried. She could barely recognize her own voice. His blood was already covering the floor. She quivered as she struggled to turn him over to lie on his back. His eyes were closed. She touched his cheek – as cold as the stone he lay upon.

"Please… speak to me," Amy whispered. She shook him, but he did not stir. His head lolled from side to side. She placed her head on his chest – he was breathing!

Rushing to the kitchen, Amy grabbed as many rags as she could see. She thrust her rags into a bucket of water in the corner of the room. When she returned to the front hall, only a puddle of blood remained where he once lay.

"Oh lord," she cried, frantic. She turned, and stopped dead. Her heart almost stopped. Raphael stood, breathless, against a wall. He was hunched over. His hands slipped on the wall ad he crumbled to the floor.

"Raphael!" Amy cried again. "Please don't move – I'll, I'll help you!"

"No," his voice rasped. He held out a bloody hand to stop her. "Amy… don't come near me."

Her heart raced. Her eyes scanned his frame. He was badly injured. His blond hair was matted against his head. His coat was missing and his white shirt, now filthy, was torn in the arm and chest areas. She opened her mouth helplessly.

He collapsed. She needed nothing more.

She rushed to him at once and took hold of his arms. Mustering all the strength she had in her, she dragged his body to a room off of the front hall.

Though she had no idea how she could have managed it, she hoisted him onto the small sofa in the corner of the room.

_Always like this, _shethought as she wiped his forehead._ I'll always nurse your wounds, but what about my wounds? Can you heal my heart?_

Her hands wiped away the blood. She wrapped his wounds in bandages. Something horrible had cut his body. Amy had seen nothing like it, and she had bandaged Raphael many times in the years she had lived with him.

Two days went by, with Raphael regaining consciousness for only fleeting moments. Amy watched him carefully, afraid to leave him for a moment. His breathing was heavy and his hair wet from sweat.

On the third evening, his fever broke. Amy heaved a sigh of relief.

She was beginning to feel dizzy. Amy shook her head. She was unwilling to admit that her health seemed to be slowly declining. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she had caught some foreign sickness. She did not show any symptoms, rather she felt tired. She supposed that taking care of Raphael was taking its toll on her.

The moon shone its elegant rays into the room. She was aware of his body shifting. She crawled over to him. His blue eyes opened slightly and stared at her.

"Amy," Raphael whispered into the silence of the room. "My Amy."


End file.
